Aug 152014
 

LITTLE VENICE

Soft-spoken lighting. A single waitress, white-capped and still. I’m the only customer. The waitress could be sixteen or sixty and this was once a ritual bathhouse. Earlier today, I jumped on a bus to the camp and did The Official Tour: suitcases, bunks and hopeful letters home. Continue reading »

 Posted by at 10:40 pm
Jun 192014
 

DALES

 

I’m not sure exactly when it was I first thought of you. It was some time that summer, the one I wasted so brilliantly – swimming, liking girls from a safe distance and wishing I was Jairzinho. Somewhere else, across the sea, your mother was strolling down country roads, sitting dreaming by furze bushes, waiting for your song to arrive. When it came, she kept that song for ten years, then another ten, kept it for you. And  Continue reading »

 Posted by at 6:59 pm
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